


and i'm dizzy on dreams

by Krewlak



Series: mamma who raised me [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, The Virgin Suicides references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 13:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krewlak/pseuds/Krewlak
Summary: Hermione Gomez from sophomore year to senior year of high school.





	and i'm dizzy on dreams

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is garbage but I really have no idea how to describe this one. Lol. I started writing this for parentdale week but, clearly, it got out of control.

_ The girls took into their own hands decisions better left to God. _

 

 

He’s older. A senior to her sophomore. Mary calls her nuts for even thinking it but Hermione just rolls her eyes. She’s hot. She knows it. And she’s a Vixen. That has to count for something. Even if he is on the wrestling team. She tucks her hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. 

“Hermione?” Mary asks as she walks away. She feels the ghost of Mary’s fingers on her elbow but Hermione doesn’t pay it any mind. She’s a girl with a mission. “Mione!” 

Hiram Lodge is chatting with Hal Cooper and he’s never looked better to Hermione. He’s waving a hand around, fingers firmly grasping his red solo cup, illustrating some point with his cup. His free hand is on Hal’s shoulder and he’s leaning forward to whisper in Hal’s ear. He smiles, sharp and white, the corner of his eye crinkling. Hermione wants to kiss the spot. 

It’s a stupid crush and she kind of hates herself for it. Hermione Gomez doesn’t do crushes. She doesn’t have to. She’s pretty enough and popular enough and it’s boring. Crushes are boring and, even worse, possibly heartbreaking. Hiram Lodge though. He’s something else. Something enough for her abandon all of her preconceived notions about unrequited feelings.

She’s only a few inches away when Hal notices her and raises an eyebrow. She tries to impart how desperately she needs him to play it cool with the arch of her eyebrow but knowing Hal Cooper, the message is totally lost on him. Hiram must notice Hal is distracted though because he stops talking and turns to face her fully. 

She thinks this might be the first time that he’s ever looked her in the eye. Hermione wants to him to look at her for the rest of their lives. She instantly blushes and he smiles, arrogant and patient all at once. The moment seems to last forever and it feels like something is happening between them. Something perfect and exciting and completely ruined when Fred Andrews pushes between them.

“Mione,” Fred Andrews says, completely unaware that he was interrupting what could have been the most important moment of Hermione’s high school life. She can’t be blamed for the scowl that spreads across her face in reply. “I’ve been looking for you all over.” 

“What do you want, Freddie?” Hermione asks with an impatient huff. She looks over Fred’s shoulder but Hiram is gone, replaced by Alice Smith hanging off of Hal’s arm. 

“You promised me a dance, remember?” Fred says, scratching the back of his neck. He shoves his hand into his front pocket and cocks a hip out. Hermione is sure that he’s trying to look cool but it’s not working. “During chemistry. You said you’d save me a dance.”

“Jesus, Freddie, give the girl some room to breathe,” FP says, as he throws an arm around Fred’s shoulders. He looks Hermione up and down, eyes dragging over her, before sucking his teeth and tightening his arm around Fred’s neck. “Come on, Freddie. Let’s get a drink.”

“But,” Fred says, pouting at FP and holding a hand out to Hermione. FP winks at Hermione before dragging Fred away despite his protests. 

Hermione watches them go, feeling far more alone than she has any right to. She’s sure that she could find Mary again or, hell, even Penelope if she was truly desperate. It's the thought of spending yet another Friday night surrounded by the same group of people that sends her out into the backyard where the stoners are circled. Hermione ignores them and sits down on one of the patio chairs.

“Hermione Gomez, right?” someone asks from behind her. Hermione jumps up and spins around on her heel to face Hiram. He has both hands in his pockets and looks too cool for this party. Too cool for Riverdale, if she’s being honest. “You’re on the Vixens?”

“Yeah,” she says and it comes out high-pitched and lame. She cringes slightly. She’s ruined this. She knows she has. “It’s Hiram, right?”

“You know my name?” he asks, taking a step towards her. 

“Kind of hard not to know the guy who’s supposed to be taking our wrestling team to the championships,” she replies with an arrogant smirk of her own. If there is one thing that Hermione Gomez is confident about, it’s high school politics. “Prep school transfer turned wrestling hero. You’re our resident celebrity.”

“That’s a pretty bold statement,” he says with a blush. Or. Hermione is pretty sure it’s a blush. It’s dark in the backyard and she’s half buzzed. There’s a very good chance that she’s just making it up. She’s willing to take it either way.

“I’m only sharing what everyone else in this school is saying,” she replies with a shrug. She clasps her hands behind her back, bites her bottom lip, and looks at him through her lashes. It’s her go-to move when it comes to boys and it’s yet to fail her. “Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t dragging the entire wrestling team behind you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies with a laugh. She laughs too and it feels good. “But definitely don’t let any of the other guys hear you.”

“I would never,” she says, pressing a hand her chest. “Hermione Gomez knows how to keep a secret.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He takes that last step towards her and he’s so close. She can feel the warmth coming off of him, can smell the expensive cologne on his skin. Her fingers twitch with the urge to reach up and smooth a loose bit of his pitch black hair back into place. She clutches them together behind her back that much harder to resist the urge. 

“The real question is,” she says softly, soft enough that he has to lean in a little more to hear her. “How does the big man on campus know  _ my _ name.”

“Word is you’re a shoo-in for captain when Jessica graduates,” he says with an easy smile. Her heart beats a little faster and she can’t help but reach out to grasp his forearm in excitement. 

“Are you serious? Who said that? Was it Jessica?” she asks, rapid fire. He laughs, throwing his head back and reaching up to cup her elbow. His hand is hot on her skin. She chuckles a little and goes to step back but he’s pulling her closer and that bright smile is shining all over her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, shaking his head. “I like a girl with some ambition.”

“Do you?” she asks, voice low - lower than she’s ever heard it. She licks her lips and Hiram watches the swipe of her tongue. She feels powerful then. Powerful in a way that boys like Fred Andrews couldn’t even dream of inspiring. 

“I’m a big fan of going after the things that you want with a singular passion,” he says and he sounds like a damn infomercial but she finds herself nodding along anyways. “Everything you want in this life is within arm’s reach. You just have to grab it.”

“Totally,” she says with a nod. She leans a little, eyes wide and searching. “I totally get that. Sometimes. Sometimes, Riverdale just seems so small compared to everything that I want.”

He looks down, smirks and nods a little before looking at her again, “And what do you want, Hermione Gomez?”

The word you is on the tip of her tongue when Mary comes rushing outside, eyes wide behind her glasses. She pushes between the two of them and grabs Hermione’s arm yelling, “Cops!” 

Hermione doesn’t get a chance to say anything to Hiram before the two of them are hopping the back fence and running towards Pop’s at top speed. It isn’t until they’re slowing down in the parking lot that Hermione notices Hiram had run with them. Mary raises her eyebrows and tries not to smile as she looks between the two of them. 

“Um,” she says with a small snort. “I will go get us a booth, Mione. Want your usual?”

“Yes, please,” Hermione says with the sweetest smile she could possibly manage. Mary gives her a pointed look before turning it on Hiram. He blinks and stands up a little straighter under her glare but he doesn’t back down. “Mary.”

“I will be just inside. Watching,” she says, sticking her nose in the air and a glare that doesn’t intimidate anyone before heading in.

“Your friend is . . . intense,” he says with a laugh. “Protective.”

“Sorry about that,” she says. She tries to play it cool, tries to seem more relaxed than she was at the party. “We didn’t even realize that you followed.”

“Well, we weren’t done talking, were we?” he says. She lifts her shoulder in a shrug and tries to press down the smile that she knows is on her face. She reaches up to tuck her hair back, a stupid nervous tick that her mother is constantly on her case about, but Hiram reaches out and beats her to it. “I mean, you wanted to keep talking, right?”

“Definitely,” she says on a sigh that is too dreamy. “But my friend is waiting. You can totally join us. If you want.”

“I should probably make sure Hal got out alright,” he says, stepping back. He puts his hands back in his pockets. “Go back for my car.”

“You left your car?” she asks, scrunching up her nose in distaste. If she had a car of her own, there was no way that she would have sprinted the six blocks to Pop’s. “And you let us run here, anyways? That doesn’t seem very gentlemanly of you, Hiram.”

“Are you looking for a gentleman, Hermione?” he asks with the same easy confidence that he’s worn all night. She wonders what it must be like to be that confident all the time. “Someone to whisk you away from all the drabness of Riverdale in his four-wheel chariot?”

“Are you making fun of me?” she asks. She feels brave when she pokes him in the chest and she’s rewarded when he grabs her wrist and pulls her close again. Her hand is pressed against his chest and his heart is pounding just as hard as hers. “Your heart is pounding, Hiram.”

“I’m sure it’s no surprise what you do to guys, Hermione Gomez,” he says slowly, eyes searching her face for something. She decides that she likes the way he says her name. No one else seems to say it the same way, like it’s a promise of something more than what she is. “Which is why, I want to take you out.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he says, rolling his eyes. She laughs with him and tucks her chin into her chest a little. “Next weekend? The Bijou and dinner? I’ll pick you up around six.”

“Yes, absolutely,” she says, nodding a little. “I should get inside.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure your friend is tired of pressing her face against the glass,” Hiram says, nodding towards Pop’s. Hermione spins around and catches Mary jerking back from the glass of her booth. Hiram slips away from her and starts walking back in the direction of the party. She calls after him and he pauses before nodding and turning back at a slight jog. “Almost forgot.”

He leans in and kisses her, pulling her in close with an arm and cupping her jaw. It lasts little more than a minute before he’s stepping away and smiling at her. She manages to pull herself together and smiles back. 

“I’ll see you soon, Hermione Gomez,” he says before finally turning and heading back to his car. 

Hermione goes into Pop’s in a haze. Nothing seems quite as real anymore. It’s almost like she’s in a dream. She sits down in the booth across from Mary, pulling her strawberry shake towards her. Mary stares at her with wide eyes and bated breath until Hermione gives in and starts to squeal in pure joy. 

 

 

_They became too powerful to live among us, too self-concerned, too visionary, too blind._

 

 

“Mom!” Hermione complains as her mother tugs at her skirt again. “Stop it!”

“It’s too short, mija!” her mother insists. “You don’t want to give him the wrong idea about what kind of girl you are.”

“Yeah, Mione,” Jackie says with a smirk. “Don’t want to give the wrong idea to Hiram Lodge. He’ll probably make a buck off it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mom asks, narrowing her eyes at Hermione’s sister. 

“Nothing!” Hermione snaps, glaring at Jackie. “It doesn’t mean anything. Look, he’s going to be here any minute.”

“And your point?” Mom asks, putting her hands on her hips. She looks between Hermione and her sister with raised eyebrows. “What is so special about this Hiram Lodge, hm?”

“Noth-ing,” Hermione says, rolling her eyes. Jackie just laughs and goes to peek out the window again. She whistles low and lets the curtain fall shut before turning back to Hermione and their mother with a large smile. Hermione rushes over to pull back the curtain as well. “What?”

Hiram is already walking up to the front door and Hermione’s stomach flips over more than once. She jerks back from the window and quickly combs her fingers through her hair and adjusts her glasses. She smiles nervously at Jackie who just rolls her eyes. She reaches forward and fixes Hermione’s necklace just as Hiram knocks on the door. 

Her mother answers the door with a dish rag thrown over her shoulder and the ugly brown slippers that Hermione has been trying to get rid of for years. She can’t help but feel embarrassed when he comes inside and sees the mess in the living room. 

They haven’t picked up at all from the kids that week so there is still paint and markers and toys everywhere. Hermione scolds herself internally for not thinking to clean the downstairs but she had been more concerned about picking out the perfect outfit. 

“Mom,” Hermione says, stepping forward. “This is Hiram Lodge. Hiram, my mother.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gomez,” Hiram says with that same bright smile that has charmed everyone else in Riverdale. 

“It is nice to meet you,” her mother says, looking Hiram up and down with a critical eye. She doesn’t move from the foyer, doesn’t invite Hiram any further into her home. “Tell me, Hiram.”

Hermione knows that tone. She grabs her jacket from the living room, giving Jackie a panicked look as she pulls it on. She touches her mother’s shoulder, trying to stop the question that Hermione knows is coming. Her mother gives Hermione a patient look before asking, “Do you go to church? I don’t see you on Sundays at St. Agnes.”

“Mom!”

“We have our own church,” Hiram says, smiling a little at Hermione. “In New York.”

“That’s quite a long journey just for church,” her mother says, ignoring Hermione. 

“We go for the major holidays,” Hiram says slowly. Hermione can see on his face that he knows it’s the wrong answer. She appreciates that he’s honest. In some fantasy world, her mother appreciates it as well. “My mother is very committed to her original church from home.”

“St. Agnes is a very fine church,” her mother continues. “I know the priest - he baptised both my girls. I’m sure I could ease your mother into our congregation. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Moth-er,” Hermione bites out, stepping in between the two of them. She clutches Hiram’s bicep and makes clear who she’s choosing in this battle of wills. “We’re going now.”

“Yes, of course,” her mother bites back. She straightens her back and gives Hiram another once over. Hermione can see just how much she disapproves. “Please have her home by eleven, Hiram.”

“Of course, Mrs. Gomez,” he agrees just as eager to get out of the house as she is. “I’ll take the very best care of her.”

“I’m sure you will, Hiram,” her mother says before turning to Hermione. “Que tengas una buena noche y recuerda el toque de queda.”

“Si, mami,” Hermione murmurs, pressing her sticky and glossed lips to her mother’s cheek. “Te veré cuando llegue a casa.”

She doesn’t give her mother a chance to say anything more, to embarrass her even more, and drags Hiram out of the house a moment later. She gives him a tight smile and hopes that her cheeks aren’t red anymore.

“Sorry about that,” she says softly. Her hand reaches up to tuck her hair back but she stops herself at the last moment. It’s a bad habit and one she is determined to break. “My mother can be a nightmare sometimes.”

“She’s just protecting her daughter,” Hiram says with a shrug. He opens the car door for her and holds a hand out to help her in. “I’m just glad your dad didn’t answer the door with a shotgun in his hand.”

“Please tell me immediately whose dad answered the door with a gun,” she says, reaching out to stop him from shutting the door. “I  _ need _ to know.”

Hiram just laughs and shakes his head before shutting the door and getting into the car himself. The date is everything that she’d hoped it would be. He takes her to dinner (somewhere other than Pop’s) and pulls out her chair. He orders for both of them and it all feels so grown up that Hermione doesn’t even complain about it. 

But the best part. The part that has Hermione's heart pounding and a smile on her face is how he listens. She knows how cheesy it sounds. But it’s honestly the best because it feels like she’s actually being heard. 

He doesn’t laugh when she talks about getting out of Riverdale. He agrees when she talks about how much bigger the world is and how she just doesn’t understand people like Fred Andrews and Hal Cooper who want to stay in Riverdale their whole lives. He smiles when she talks about owning her own boutique in some trendy neighborhood and talks about his own plans for college. 

For an entire night, she gets to pretend that they're planning something together and it is the greatest thing she’s ever felt in her short life.

 

 

_When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night [...] dreamed of being bitten bye each one._

 

 

He calls her his girlfriend on the third date. Meets her father when they have dinner with her family for their fifth date. Her father is far more forgiving of Hiram than her mother. He pats Hiram on the back and chats sports with him in the living room while Hermione sets the table, nervously. By the end of the night, Hiram has a hand on her knee and the full approval of Rodrigo Gomez. 

Her mother is an unmovable force though and sits quietly in the corner while Hiram charms her father. Jackie sits next to her, smirking into her glass of water and rolling her eyes at Hiram’s more obvious sucking up moments. Hermione wishes that there was something that she could say or do to sway her mother but she knows how stubborn the woman can be. Based on the way she sniffs when Daddy gives Hiram a hug at the end of the night, her opinion isn’t going to change any time soon. 

She meets his parents two weeks before Christmas, tugging on her cheap shopping mall dress when Victoria and Henry Lodge welcome her into their home. They live on the outside of town, closer to Greendale than to Riverdale but Riverdale has the better athletics program. Or at least that’s what Mr. Lodge says as he walks her through the house to the dining room. He holds out his elbow for her and covers her hand with his dry palm. It’s all very formal and stiff. 

Hiram is in a mood. He’s quiet, only speaking when spoken to, and keeping his eyes on his plate. Hermione spends so much of the meal trying to get his attention, to try and catch his eye, that she nearly misses the question Mrs. Lodge asks, “I’m sorry what was that?”

“Have you thought about post high school, dear?” Mrs. Lodge repeats with a patient smile. She licks her lips and looks at Hiram for a moment. “I’m sure, since Hiram is a senior, he’s told you all about his own plans.”

“I’ve heard all about the school in Philadelphia, Mrs. Lodge,” Hermione says with a knowing smirk directed at Hiram. He’s staring at her with wide eyes and the room is suddenly very quiet. Hermione tries to laugh a little. “But I’m only a sophomore so I haven’t really thought about college much.”

“Yes,” she says after a long pause. She scrapes her fork across her plate and blinks a couple of times. “Did Hiram ever tell you about the family business? Lodge Industries? His grandfather started it, built it from the ground up.”

“No, he hasn’t told me about that,” Hermione says slowly, looking to Hiram for any help and finding none. She doesn’t know what she said that’s made the evening so tense but the last thing she wants to do is upset his parents. She’d been determined to play the part of the perfect, high-school sweetheart. But based on everyone’s faces, she’s ruined all chances of that. 

“Hiram will take over the mantle one day,” Mrs. Lodge continues. “Won’t you, Hiram?”

“Of course,” Hiram says instantly. Hermione sits up a little straighter and looks between the two of them. “After business school.”

“Hiram,” Mr. Lodge says, voice tight. Hermione looks down at her plate. He’s not her father but she knows that tone. “Not now.”

“Right.”

“Hermione,” Mr. Lodge barks, turning to her. She looks at him with a small smile and raised eyebrows. It’s her doting daughter look and it works on Mr. Lodge just as well as it works on her own father. “You know it’s never too soon to start thinking about your own future. What is it your father does?”

“He’s a long haul driver,” she says slowly. She pokes at her dinner, moving the last few bites around her plate. She swallows down the nerves that threaten to choke her and presses a smile onto her face. She tries to remember what her mother is constantly telling her - there’s no shame in hard work, no shame in the blue collar that her father wears proudly. “He’s usually on the road.”

“But Hiram has met him?”

“Yes,” Hermione says, drawing the word out. She’s not sure what the point of this is but she’s willing to play along. “We got lucky and caught him between rides.”

“That must be so hard for your mother,” Mrs. Lodge says, shaking her head. “Being alone with you girls, without any support.”

Hermione grits her teeth at the false pity and puts her fork down, “My sister and I are both in high school now, so we’re always around to help with the daycare and the house. It’s really not that bad.”

“Still,” Mrs. Lodge says with a small, elegant shrug. Hermione decides, right there, that she hates her. “I suppose I’m just blessed that with Henry’s job, I don’t have to work. I’m sure that Hiram’s further wife will enjoy the same luxuries.”

The unspoken  _ and it won’t be you _ echoes through the dining room.

“Or she could work,” Hiram speaks up for the first time. He smiles slightly across the table at her. “If she wants, of course.”

“Of course,” Hermione agrees. She looks at Mrs. Lodge out of the corner of her eye. “Not everyone is suited to the stay at home lifestyle.” 

“Exactly,” Hiram agrees. He sips from his cup, hiding his smile. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

 

 

_The time has to be right and the heart willing._

 

 

They go to the prom together in the spring. Hermione dresses them appropriately, matching his bow tie and cummerbund to Jackie’s old prom dress. It's a pale pink number that’s probably a little too 80s but no matter how much she begged, her mother wouldn’t let her buy a new dress. She gets contacts and forces Mary to hold her eye open when she puts them in for the first time. Her eyelids are covered in silver glitter and despite her mother’s protests she wears a shiny pink gloss that Mary says insists makes her mouth look extra kissable. 

Jackie curls her hair and whispers in her ear about how stupid boys can be on prom night, “If he tries anything that you’re not ready for, kick him in the balls.”

“Jackie, he’s not like that,” Hermione mutters, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Jackie yanks on her hair and positions her head again. “He’s a good guy, I promise.”

“Look, I’ve known too many good guys who were good until prom night,” Jackie says, looking at Hermione in the mirror. She tucks up the last bit of loose hair and pins it into place, adjusting the pin so that you can see the rhinestone at the end. “ Solo sé segura, hermanita.”

She meets Hiram at the end of her driveway, ignoring her mother’s complaints about pictures. It’s not her prom and she’s sure that there will be plenty of pictures taken in front of the limo. They meet up with Hiram’s teammates at Barry Clayton’s house, the limo waiting for them on the street. Hermione had been prepared to be the only underclassman in the group but when Sierra Samuels comes in on the arm of Tommy Keller she can’t help but gape. 

“Did you know they were dating?” Hermione hisses in Hiram’s ear as soon as he’s done saying hello to Tommy. She’d exchanged pleasant smiles with Sierra, complimenting her baby blue dress, but both girls knew that it wasn’t genuine. They weren’t really friends after all. 

“I thought it was common knowledge,” Hiram replies with a shrug. “Tommy is always going on about how done for he is when it comes to Sierra.”

“How could you not tell me?” Hermione says with a pout. She can’t tear her eyes away from the two of them, hands clasped between their thighs as they sit next to Barry and his date. “This is huge!”

“Why?” Hiram asks with a frown. He turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “What Riverdale history am I missing here?”

Hermione rolls her eyes and adjusts Hiram’s bowtie, “Only that the Kellers are raging racists who have run the sheriff's office for the last thirty years and the Samuels family has been here just as long. Doesn’t mean that Calvin Keller would ever greet Susanna Samuels with anything other than a scowl.”

“Do you keep a running tally of all the family feuds in town?” Hiram asks, narrowing his eyes at her. The corner of his mouth quirks up though and she knows that he’s just teasing. “I mean, I knew you were a bit of a gossip but.”

“Shut up, Hiram,” Hermione mutters, pressing a sticky kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turns and gives her a proper kiss that has her frowning and complaining about having to fix her lip gloss. Of course, that just earns her a pleased smile as he wipes the excess lip gloss from his mouth with his thumb. 

He doesn’t have the chance to say anything back before Barry’s mom is ushering them out of the door for pictures. As soon as the pictures are done, they pile into the limo and Barry pulls out a flask of something that makes even Hiram cough when he takes a sip. Sierra sits next to Hermione in the limo, quiet and entirely focused on Tommy but when Hermione hands her the flask, Sierra maintains eye contact. 

It’s pretty clear what Sierra wants to say but can’t find the words. Hermione wordlessly reaches down and grabs Sierra’s free hand, squeezing tight when she coughs after sipping from the flask. Sierra gives her a watery smile as she passes the flask to Tommy and Hermione leans in to wipe a stray tear away, being careful not to ruin her makeup. 

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hermione says soft enough so that Sierra is the only one who can hear her. “About you and Tommy.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Sierra says with a relieved sigh. She squeezes Hermione’s hand back and leans into her a side a little. They’re still not friends but they’re not really strangers anymore either by the end of the ride to the Five Seasons.

The dance, itself, is boring. Even Hiram agrees. The DJ that the dance committee has brought in is terrible and insists on playing nothing but hits from the 80s. The ballroom of the Five Seasons is decorated with bright blues and greens, a cheap attempt to create an underwater paradise to go with the dance’s theme. 

She tries to fit in with Hiram’s friends, tries to laugh at the inside jokes that goes over her head. Hiram stays by her side, hand hot on her lower back, but he doesn’t do much to make the interactions any easier for Hermione. So, she drinks too many glasses of punch with splashes of vodka poured from Jessica’s bejeweled flask. Hermione doesn’t say anything about how tacky a hot pink flask is but Hiram leans in to whisper, “Aren’t flasks supposed to be discrete?”

She laughs, covering her mouth with she chokes on her punch. She turns her back on the group and smiles up at Hiram. He smiles back and she’s reminded once again how it’s the two of them versus everyone else. A slow song comes on next and Hiram drags her to the dance floor, eyebrow raised at the choice of song. He pulls her on close, hands on her lower back, and presses his forehead against her own. She curls her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, swaying gently. 

“Are you having fun?” he asks. She makes a face and shakes her head. He laughs. “Me neither.”

“We can go,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Get out of here. Get a shake at Pop’s.”

“I got a room upstairs,” he blurts, losing all of the cool charm that she’d gotten used to the past year. He winces a little and she smiles softly. “For an after party, I mean. I got it for an after party. But we can go there now. If you want.”

She bites her lip and looks down at their shoes. Mary had applied little crystals that they’d gotten from the beauty store in Greendale to match the pins in her hair. Of course, they’d whispered about it as they’d painted their nails. About Hermione staying the night with Hiram. She’d been sure then that the answer would be yes. An instant yes but now that she’s actually faced with it? She pauses. 

“Or we can go to Pop’s and meet everyone back here for the party,” Hiram says with an easy shrug when she takes too long to answer. He tilts her chin up with a knuckle and kisses her softly. “Whatever you want. It’s your night.”

“Hiram,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s your prom. I’m pretty sure that makes it your night.” 

“Well, I’m making it your night,” he says.

“Well, if you insist,” she says, batting her lashes. 

“I definitely do,” he mutters before kissing her again. This time she pulls him in tight, pressing herself against him. “This is all for you.”

“Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

Hermione can hear the hope in his voice and feels her doubts melt away. She nods and the smile she gets back in return shoos away any lingering fears that are fluttering in her stomach like butterflies. Hiram grabs her hand and drags her from the ballroom to the elevator. He cups the back of her head and kisses down her neck. She coos and tilts her head back for better access. He slides a thigh between her legs, slowly inching upwards. Hermione lifts her leg and wraps her ankle around his calf, toes curling in her strappy shoes. 

The elevator door opens too soon and Hermione realizes that they’ve stopped at the penthouse suite. Hermione’s eyes widen and she gasps when she steps into the main room. The view, even though it’s just Riverdale, is amazing. She turns to Hiram with a pleased smile, “You said a room, not the  _ penthouse _ , Hiram.”

“I like nice things,” he says with a laugh as he undoes his bowtie. She reaches up and unbuttons the collar of his shirt, sliding her hand along his collarbone. 

“Am I a nice thing?”

“Hermione, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers before leaning in to kiss her. 

He slowly guides the both of them towards the bedroom, divesting himself of bits of his suit along the way. His fingers are cool along her back as he unzips her dress. It stays up only because she’s presses against him, back of her knees buckling against the edge of the bed. 

Hermione takes a deep breath and steps back, letting the dress fall down. She’d ignored Mary’s pointed stare as she’d put on the pasties instead of an actual bra. Hermione isn’t ashamed to be part of the itty bitty titty committee. (If her mother and Jackie were any clue, she’d be well off in a couple of years anyways.) Judging by the way Hiram’s eyes widen and his hands shake as they peel the petals off, he doesn’t mind either. Once they’re in nothing but their underwear, Hermione slides back onto the bed until her head is resting against the pillows. 

Hiram digs through his suit pockets until she hears the crinkle of foil. He kicks off his boxers and Hermione can’t help the blush that curls up her chest when she sees all of him for the first time. She’s touched and explored with her fingers over the nine months of their relationship but she’s never actually seen anything. He slides his hands up the outside of her thighs before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties. The foil of the condom rubs against her thigh and Hermione nods her permission for Hiram to pull her underwear down. 

He’s gentle when he kisses her next, softer than any kiss that he’s ever given her. He moves slowly as he gets her ready with his fingers. It feels like hours pass as her orgasm slowly builds. She’s on the precipice of finally falling off when he stops. She whines but the sound of foil ripping silences her. He fits the condom onto himself and pauses, looking her in the eye. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice hoarse in a way that she hasn’t heard. It’s a night of firsts and she’s not backing down. She nods and he looks down with a focused frown but she wants him looking at her. She reaches up and cups his jaw, tilts his head up to meet her eye. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replies softly. She shrugs and combs his hair back from his forehead. “I just. Wanted to look at you.” 

“Hermione,” he murmurs before dipping in and kissing her. He pushes in and it’s not as bad as she thought. Full and stretched in a way that is completely foreign. She tries to focus on kissing Hiram but it’s too weird and she breaks away with a gasp. Hiram continues to kiss down her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbones as he pushes in all the way. “Mi amore.”

Her toes curl and she arches her back a little as he starts to move. It’s still weird but it feels better with every shift of his hips. Again, she finds herself slowly building up to that peak that she’d had been balancing on only a few minutes ago. Hiram’s hips start to stutter and he presses his forehead to her jaw, squeezing her hips. Hermione squeezes her eyes shut and tries to tip over the edge with him but it’s over too soon and Hiram is panting in her ear. 

They pull apart reluctantly, Hermione slipping in between the covers while Hiram cleans himself up. He pulls his boxers on and sits next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. They cuddle in silence until they both sit up straight, remembering the after party and the dance that was still going on downstairs. They both hurry out of bed and begin the process of trying to put themselves back together. 

By the time Tommy and Sierra come through the door, they both are picture perfect and ready to party. 

 

 

_ You never get over it, but you get to where it doesn't bother you so much.  _

 

 

They break up two weeks before he leaves for college. He’s going to New York City, much farther than the often discussed Philadelphia. It’s what his father wants, which means its what his mother wants. He cups the back of her head and presses his forehead against hers when he breaks up with her, whispers against his lips about long distance and new towns and all of the other excuses that he’d made up. It’s the sweetest, most heartbreaking moment of her life and she’s convinced she’s not going to recover. 

“Hermione, you’re going to get over him,” Mary whispers late one night. They’re curled into each other on the floor of Mary’s den during a study session for the first exam of the semester turned gossip session turned impromptu sleepover. “He’s not the only boy in Riverdale.”

“You know what the boys in Riverdale are like, Mary,” Hermione huffs. She rolls over onto her back and watches the light from the TV dance across the ceiling. “Hiram was different. He was . . . he made me feel special. He listened, Mary. Like for real listened.”

“Right.”

“What?” Hermione asks through clenched teeth. 

“I mean. Listening is a really low bar, Hermione,” Mary says with a shrug. She sits up and stretches before turning to look at Hermione with raised eyebrows. 

“This coming from the girl who’s had a crush on Freddie Andrews since the fifth grade,” Hermione replies with a roll of her eyes. 

“Says the girl who Fred actually likes!” Mary practically shouts before covering her mouth. She lays back down and sighs, resting her head against Hermione’s stomach. “Did you love him, Mione?”

Hermione pauses, the question catching her off guard. It shouldn’t. It’s a valid question for someone who claims heartbreak. They’d been together for months. Almost a year. But the word love never crossed her mind when it came to Hiram Lodge. 

“I gave him my virginity, Mary,” Hermione says finally. “What do you think?”

Mary hums and closes her eyes as Hermione finger combs Mary’s bangs away from her forehead. Hermione isn’t sure if Mary believes her. She isn’t sure that she believes herself but the sound of Mrs. Anderman walking through the kitchen quiets them both. The next morning, the conversation is forgotten and Hermione pushes the thought to the back of her mind.

She spends the first half of junior year in proper mourning for her relationship with Hiram. She accepts zero dates and even skips homecoming to avoid whatever drama that might come along with it. Mary insists that she’s being dramatic but Hermione continues her life of self-imposed singledom with a fierce determination. 

Between starting SAT prep, being the youngest Vixen captain in Riverdale High history, and her usual studies, Hermione doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with boys anyways. She’d made a promise to herself that she’d get out of Riverdale. She still isn’t sure if that means following after Hiram or making a path for herself. All she knows is that step one is getting into college. 

Somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t  _ here _ . 

Her mother doesn’t approve. She reminds Hermione of the cost. Constantly. Every time she sees Hermione’s books out she sucks her teeth and leans over her shoulder. 

“Jackie is going to community college,” she says, laying a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She gestures at her books and sighs. “I know you want this, Hermione, but we must realistic.”

“I can apply for scholarships.”

“And what will I do without you?” she asks then. Her voice is tired in that way that breaks Hermione’s heart. “Jackie is gone all the time with school and her job. I need your help, mija.”

Hermione sighs and looks down before turning in her chair. She clutches the back of it until her knuckles turn white. She looks up at her mother and tries to soften her expression, tries to be patient when she speaks. 

“I just want something more than Riverdale,” she starts. It’s not the right way to start from the way her mother jerks back. Hermione continues anyways. “I want to go out in the world and become successful. So successful that you don’t have to work so hard. So that I can take care of you for a change.”

“I need your help  _ now _ ,” her mother says, rolling her eyes. “You can still become successful here while helping me.”

Hermione clenches her jaw and turns back to studying with twice the vigor of before. And so it goes for the rest of the semester. By the time winter break rolls around, Hermione is burnt out and fully prepared to spend the week of Christmas drinking milkshakes with Mary. 

What she is not prepared for is walking into Pop’s and seeing Hiram sitting across from Hal Cooper and Alice Smith. Hermione stutters in the doorway, Mary bumping into her with a shout. A shout that naturally draws the attention of all three of them. Hermione doesn’t give any of them the chance to call out to her (and she can see Alice gearing up to do just that, a mean smirk on her face). She grabs Mary’s hand and drags her to the opposite side of the diner. 

“What the hell, Mione?” Mary whines as she sits down across from Hermione. She adjusts her glasses and her eyes instantly widen when she looks over Hermione’s shoulder. “Oh.”

“It’s. Fine,” Hermione says with a forced smile. She looks down at her menu and tries to ignore the feeling of Mary staring at her. After a minute she huffs and drops her menu. “Seriously Mary. I am totally over him.” 

“Totally?”

“Would I lie to you?” Hermione asks with a casual shrug. “I am not even remotely concerned with him. Promise.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Mary says, shaking her head. The waitress comes up and Mary orders for the both them - hamburgers with curly fries, a strawberry shake for Hermione, and a chocolate malt for Mary. “It’s okay to be upset at seeing him.”

“Can we not? I am here to munch on junk food and complain about Penelope. That is all,” Hermione complains. She pouts at Mary until she gives in with a nod. “Good. Now. Listen to the shit Penelope tried to pull at the last Vixen practice.”

“Like, oh my god,” Alice says as she leans down over their table. She smiles at Mary and Hermione and twirls a piece of her long blonde hair. “Like, are we dishing on Pen. Like what a nightmare.”

“What do you want, Smith?” Hermione asks with a sigh. “Mary and I are trying to have a conversation.”

Alice rolls her eyes and pops her gum before standing up. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and looks down her nose at them, “Look. Hiram is freaking out that you’re here and in turn he’s upsetting Hal.”

“All of that,” Hermione says, gesturing at Alice’s general person. Alice scoffs and shifts her feet. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Seriously, what do you expect us to do Alice?” Mary chimes in, narrowing her eyes at her. Alice pouts and huffs, running a hand through her hair. “Why can’t Hiram just come over here himself?”

“Because,” Alice says through her teeth pressed into a shark’s smile. “Miss Gomez makes him shit his pants.”

“So sweet,” Hermione says. 

“Look,” Alice says, shoving into the booth next to Hermione. “Hiram is Hal’s best friend. If Hiram is miserable this entire break then Hal will be miserable which means I’ll be miserable.”

“I still don’t see how this is  _ my _ problem,” Hermione says. The waitress brings their food and Hermione immediately puts the cherry from her shake in her mouth. “Need I remind you that he dumped me?”

“I will pay for your food. Just have some Christmas spirit,” Alice practically begs. Hermione narrows her eyes. She doesn’t understand Alice’s insistence but she looks at the meal that technically neither Hermione or Mary can afford right now. She rolls her eyes and nods. “Bring your stuff over. We’ll make room for you.”

Alice slides out of the booth and rushes back to her own booth. Mary slams both of her hands down on the table. Hermione presses a hand to her chest and tries not to laugh as she asks with as much innocence as she can muster, “What?”

“Why are we going over there?” she asks. She still pulls her purse onto her shoulder and grabs her plate and malt, squaring her shoulders like she’s going off to battle and raises her eyebrows at Hermione. “Well?”

“Free food.”

“If we wanted free food, you would have invited Fred,” Mary mutters. “Or any of the other guys all gagging for a date with you.”

“It’s girl’s night,” Hermione says with a pout. But she still gathers her plate and shake, sliding out of the booth as Mary does the same. “I’ll owe you one, Mare.”

“Promises, promises,” Mary mutters as she marches by Hermione. She doesn’t even say anything as she slides into Hiram’s booth and begins to eat. 

Hermione follows with a slow breath out. She tosses her hair back and wiggles her nose so that her glasses fit right. She slides into the booth with a soft smile at Hal. He, at least, doesn’t deserve her ire, “How’s it hanging, Coop?”

“Oh come on, Hermione, not you too,” Hal complains throwing down a ketchup soaked fry. “FP is an ass.”

“Aw, come on,” Hermione says, letting her smile broaden. “It makes you sound cool. Cooler than Hal, at least.”

“I happen to like his name,” Alice says, throwing her arm around his shoulders and raising an eyebrow at Hermione. 

“Of course you do,” Hermione says, smile dropping off of her face. She finally looks at him and he’s tucking into his food with the same pointed determination as Mary. “Hiram? How’s college?”

He pauses, mouth full of fries, and looks at her with wide eyes. He swallows and sits up, smiling at her slightly, “Oh, you know, all work and no play.”

“Then you must be a very dull boy,” Hermione says as she bites into a fry. Hiram chuckles a little and Mary nudges her knee under the table. “How’s New York? Everything you hoped?” 

“It’s big,” he says after a moment. She stops eating for a second and stares him in the eye. “So much bigger than Riverdale. You would like it, Hermione.”

“Really?” she asks. Her voice is a little breathless and Mary’s elbow digs into her side. She clears her throat and takes a long sip from her shake. “I haven’t really looked at schools in New York.”

“You’re looking at schools already?” Hal asks because of course he would pick up on that bit. 

“Early admissions and all that,” Hermione replies. She looks at Mary and raises her eyebrows. “Mary is doing the same.”

“I am?” Mary asks, calling her bluff. Hermione widens her eyes and nods. “Right. I am.”

“You know what? Mary is way further in the process than me, why don’t we switch seats?” Hermione asks, dragging Mary out of the booth with her. Mary complains the whole time but switches seats with her all the same so that Hermione is across from Hiram. She looks at Hiram through her lashes and tries to ignore the way her heart is pounding. She keeps her eyes on her food when she speaks next. “I didn’t know you’d be home for the holidays.”

“Where else would I go?” he asks, lowering his voice a little. For a moment, she can pretend that it’s just the two of them and that things never changed. But the moment passes just as quickly and as easily as it came. “My parents are still in Riverdale.”

“Right,” Hermione says with a nod. Of course they are. She never sees them but she’d never seen them before dating Hiram either. “I just assumed since most of your family is in New York anyways.”

“Of course, of course,” Hiram agrees with a nod. “Mother isn’t feeling very well. She hasn’t been much for travelling lately.”

Hermione tries to sound sincere when she offers her sympathies. But Hiram just raises his eyebrow and she knows that it’s not believable. She just shrugs and Hiram snorts. Hermione tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and goes back to eating. She picks up her burger and notices just how quiet the table had gotten. Hermione looks to the rest of the table as she bites into her burger, raising her eyebrows at Alice, Hal, and Mary. None of them say anything back. Mary and Hal have enough decency to look caught but Alice just raises her eyebrow back at Hermione, “So, you two getting back together or what?”

Hermione chokes on her burger, pressing a hand to her chest as she coughs. Mary is quick to pound on her back which does nothing for her cough. 

“Shut up, acid queen,” Hiram snaps, elbowing her in the side. He shares a small smirk with Hermione and rolls his eyes. It's not much but Hermione takes it, stores it away for examination later. Right now, it’s how it’s always been. The two of them against them all. Hermione would be lying if she said she hadn’t missed the feeling. 

 

 

_ She held herself very straight like Audrey Hepburn, whom all women idolize and men never think about. _

 

 

She gets into Fordham University, the only place that offers her a scholarship that covers more than just the tuition. The almost entirely free ride and that it’s a Catholic school are the only things that prevent her mother from flat out refusing. Her father is ecstatic, all smiles and hugs, when he hears the news. He ignores her mother’s pinched smile and her sister’s quiet sulking.

Being at home is tense but knowing that she will be free from Riverdale in less than a year is enough to get her through the day. Spring semester flies by in the blink of an eye, pep rallies and the Spring Fling and finals keeping her busy enough that even her mother takes a step back. By the time summer rolls around, Hermione is ready for a long overdue rest from all the demands of high school. 

She gets a week of lounging by the pool with Mary, reading Vogue and sipping Pop’s fresh squeezed lemonade, before she gets a job at the Bijou. It’s the only way to avoid working her mother’s daycare all summer and the last thing Hermione wants to deal with is a brigade of sticky five year olds and surly preteens. It’s not ideal but it’s better than slinging milkshakes with Freddie or stacking books with Mary at the library. 

She’s at the end of her shift in the box office selling tickets when Freddie comes up still in his Pop’s uniform. The collar is undone and his bowtie is hanging loose around his neck. His hat is shoved into his front pocket and Hermione can see just what it is that Mary’s been on about all these years. He gives her an easy smile and leans against the glass of the booth, “Hey there, Hermione. I didn’t know you worked at the Bijou.”

“Beats changing diapers and cleaning up puke with my mom,” she says with a shrug. She rests her chin in her hand and can’t help giving Fred a flirty smile. “You’re looking sharp in your Pop’s uniform, Freddie.”

He actually blushes and Hermione’s smile becomes a little more genuine. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at her through his thick eyelashes. Hermione feels a blush start to show on her own cheeks and it’s to drop her smile a fraction. He doesn’t even notice. 

“What time are you getting off work?” he asks all of his smooth charm gone. Hermione raises her eyebrows though. It’s been a few months since the last time Fred Andrews asked her out. She’d thought that he’d finally gotten over that crush. “Cause I wanted to see Candyman but I didn’t wanna watch alone and FP has something going on and, well, what time are you off work?”

“Fred Andrews, are you trying to get into a movie for free?” Hermione asks. Fred laughs and rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. Bashful is a good look on him. “Well, you’re in luck because I am off the clock in twenty minutes.”

“Hot dog,” he says with a straight face. Hermione genuinely doesn’t know how he does it. “I can meet you inside?”

“Tell Bobby at the concession stand to give you a large coke slushie, a large popcorn, and a box of Junior Mints,” she says with a nod. “Let him know you’re with me and it should be free.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” he says with an earnest, sweet smile. He taps the glass with his knuckles and heads inside, a dreamy smile on his face. Hermione watches him go, appreciating the way the rest of him looks in the uniform. 

The twenty minutes fly by before her replacement comes into the booth. Joseph Muggs gives her a leering smile that makes her stomach squirm. She gives him a tight smile that’s more than he deserves and waves for him to move out of her way. He just crosses his arms and Hermione rolls her eyes, “Move, Muggs.”

“Why are you always such a bitch, Hermione?” he asks, making a face at her. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You’re gross, Joe,” she says with a simple shrug. “Move.”

He scoffs and steps aside, gesturing for her go by. She makes a point of staying as far away from him as possible while keeping her dignity as she walks by. Once she’s out of the booth, Hermione fluffs her hair and unbuttons the hideous red vest they make her wear. Fred is sucking on the slushie, an unopened straw sticking out of the pocket of his shirt. She’s quick to shove a handful of popcorn into her mouth before inspecting him for her Junior Mints. 

“Did Bobby hold out on the Junior Mints?” Hermione asks. She’d managed to pump herself up for a horror film and Joe Muggs had ruined some of her good mood. She was not going to be forgiving of anyone who made her mood any worse. 

“Nah,” Fred says, shaking his head. He turns around and shakes his hips a little, the box of mints acting like a rattle in his back pocket. Hermione snorts a little and grabs the box. Fred giggles and does a little dance before turning back to her. “Tickled.”

“Your  _ butt  _ is ticklish?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Fred says, wiggling his own eyebrows. 

Hermione laughs and his smile lights up his entire face. Hermione loops her arm through his and leans over to wrap her lips around his straw. She swears that she can hear him gulp. 

“Come on, Andrews,” she says softly, leading him to the theatre. “Can’t miss the previews. They’re the best part.”

“Anything you say, Hermione,” Fred says sounding a little dazed. 

Hermione feels a thrill go through her and she’s reminded of the many conversations she had with Mary about this exact scenario. Of Hermione taking advantage of sweet Freddie Andrews just to boost her own ego. Its enough to make her free her arm from the crook of his and walk ahead of him towards the middle of the almost empty theatre. Hermione isn’t surprised to see that’s dead on a Wednesday afternoon when the sun is shining and the town pool is open. 

Hermione keeps a respectful distance from Fred during the movie, Mary’s judging glare vivid in her mind. It doesn’t stop Fred though from cringing into her neck during the especially gorey parts. Hermione laughs and covers his eyes with a hand, his hair soft against her wrist. By the time the movie is over, Fred is cuddled into Hermione’s side with her arm resting on his shoulders and her fingers playing with his hair. 

He walks her home afterwards, gives her a hug and thanks her again for the afternoon. It’s all so innocent that Hermione isn’t quite sure what to do with it. Her mother questions where she’s been as soon as she’s through the door and Hermione answers with a slight smile on her face. Her mother pauses in folding laundry and stares at Hermione with wide eyes. 

“What?”

“ ¿Con quién estabas? ” her mother asks, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. 

“Fred Andrews,” Hermione answers cautiously. Her mother’s eyebrows raise up towards her hairline and she presses her lips together into that pleased smile that Hermione rarely gets anymore. “ ¿Qué?” 

“Nothing, mija,” she says, waving Hermione away and going back to her laundry. “Nothing at all.”

Hermione narrows her eyes at her mother but takes the chance to get out of chores and hurries to her room. She leans against her closed bedroom door once she’s locked inside and squeezes the knob tight. She knows that smile on her mother’s face. It’s the same one she wore when Jackie said she would go to community college to save money. The one she wore when her father got her a simple gold cross for Christmas instead of his usual household appliance. 

“No freaking way,” Hermione mutters under her breath as she searches her memory for her mother ever saying a bad word about the Andrews family. They weren’t Catholic but Bunny managed the Protestant thrift shop that ran out St. Christopher’s basement and Artie ran the St. Christopher Christmas tree lot every year. At the very least, they were Christians who were active in their church. Artie had his construction work. Bunny did laundry for the neighborhood, just like Hermione’s mother. Oscar was the same age as Jackie but had gotten a full baseball scholarship to a nearby college. If the rumors from the baseball team were true, Fred was heading the same way. A solid Riverdale family through and through. Hermione rolls her eyes. “Fuck.”

She should have seen this coming, should have known that out of every boy in Riverdale Marisol Gomez would love Fred Andrews. A hometown boy with hometown manners, hometown upbringing, and hometown ambitions. 

For a moment, Hermione can imagine it. She can see her going on dates at the Bijou and the drive-in. Shared milkshakes at Pop’s. Long distance phone calls during college until he finally gets down on one knee and she moves back to Riverdale, promising herself to get her degree later. Her mother’s proud pleasure at how small Hermione’s life has become. Small and simple and devout. Just like her own. 

Hermione rolls her eyes at the thought. At herself. At her mother and Fred Andrews and Riverdale and everything small town. She goes to bed that night with the determination to avoid all things small town. She was going to get out of Riverdale and become something bigger than it all. 

 

 

_ She wanted out of that decorating scheme. _

 

 

The afternoons spent watching movies don’t stop but she refuses to call them dates. Refuses to let Fred call them dates either. She talks about Mary constantly and insists that she can walk herself home afterwards. She isn’t sure if she’s being cruel or nice, selfish or selfless. It’s all too confusing and all Hermione cares about is getting through the summer. 

By the time homecoming rolls around, she has Fred half-convinced that he’s been in love with Mary the whole time and Mary bold enough to ask him to be her date. She smiles happily when Mary announces that Fred Andrews is her date and drags Mary to the mall to try on dresses neither of them can afford. 

Hermione hasn’t thought about her own date, doesn’t really want to think about it if she’s honest. From the first day of school, Hermione’s mind has been little more than a running countdown of the days until graduation. She’s organized a summer work program to earn money for books. It gets her out of Riverdale almost immediately after graduation which perfectly suits her goals. Her mother doesn’t like it but she sees the sense in earning money to pay for books. She has no ground to stand on as far as an argument goes but that doesn’t stop her sad sighs whenever Hermione enters the room. 

Homecoming night is no different than any other dance: her mother insists that Hermione needs a cardigan, Jackie leans in the doorway to the kitchen, laughing while they argue, and her father has the good luck to be on a ride this week. They’re interrupted by someone knocking on the door and Hermione is grateful that Mary is always on time. 

Hermione is the awkward third wheel on Mary’s date with Fred but Mary had insisted that it was fine. She couldn’t bear the thought of their last homecoming without Hermione at her side. Fred had agreed wholeheartedly, insisting that she join them. Not that Hermione had argued too much. She’d rather be the third wheel in this tricycle than Ricky Mantle’s date. 

Naturally, though, it’s Mary  _ and _ Fred at the door. They’re matching - Fred in a lavender vest and bowtie and Mary in a lavender dress. They look nice standing next to one another, her red curls pulled back and his brown hair greased to all hell. She feels a twinge of what could be called envy but it passes quickly enough. 

Her mother presses her lips together before feigning excitement at the sight of Mary and her date. She gives Hermione a questioning look as she goes to get the camera. A questioning look that Hermione blatantly ignores and Jackie laughs at. 

“You guys look amazing!” Hermione croons, leaning in to hug them both. “Told you lavender was the right choice.”

“Yes, yes, Mione,” Mary mutters into her shoulder. “You are always right and I should listen to you more.”

“Don’t say that, Mare. You’ll only inflate her ego,” FP Jones says from behind them. Hermione’s grip on Fred and Mary tightens just a fraction. “Howdy, Gomez.”

Hermione doesn’t even dignify him with a response. She pulls back from Fred and Mary, glaring at both of their sheepish smiles, “Why is FP here?”

“Well,” Fred says, leaning back a little and holding his arm out. FP slips under easy enough, wrapping an arm around Mary and Fred each. Mary rolls her eyes and Fred just smiles. “Since F doesn’t have a date and neither do you...the more the merrier, right?”

Hermione huffs and turns to Mary, “And you agreed to this?” 

“He was already in the truck when they picked me up,” Mary says with a sigh. She gestures between the two of them and tries to smile. “At least you guys match?”

Hermione takes the fact that his vest is the same shade of red as her dress as a small consolation prize. She huffs and crosses her arms, looking FP up and down with a critical eye. Finally she concedes with a nod and waves the three of them into the house. As soon as she sees FP, Jackie stands up straight and yanks Hermione to the side, “What is that Serpent doing here?”

“Relax,” Hermione says, shaking free of Jackie’s grip. She resists the urge to pinch Jackie back in retaliation. “It’s not like I invited him.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Hermione,” Jackie hisses. “Especially when there is a baby Serpent in my house.”

“Calm down, Jackie,” Hermione insists, jerking her arm free. “FP Jones is harmless. Serpent or not.”

“He better be,” Jackie says, pointing at Hermione. 

Hermione just bends her finger back before hurrying back over to Mary for pictures. FP must feel Jackie’s glare because he keeps his distance and is painstakingly polite to Hermione’s mom. He even goes so far as to offer being photographer so Hermione can take a picture with her sister and mother. 

When her mother forces her to take a picture with FP as if he’s her actual date, Hermione hisses, “Stop sucking up to my mom. This is the last time you’ll ever be in my house again.” 

“What can I say? Mothers love me,” FP says, hand heavy and hot on her hip. She looks up at him and he smirks down at her, popping his gum the whole time. For a split second, Hermione understands just what it is the other Vixens see in the bad boy from the Southside but it passes just as quickly as it came. “Plus this is for Freddie, not you, Gomez.”

“Oh thank god,” Hermione mutters as she shifts to wrap her hands around his neck. She turns her head and smiles over her shoulder at the camera, doing her best not to blink. FP does the same and quickly they finish up and rush out of the door, dragging Mary and Fred behind them. 

The dance ends up being a disaster from the moment they walk through the gym doors. Penelope wears the same red dress as Hermione, though Hermione’s makeup looks better. Fred had somehow managed to convince Sierra and the dance committee that the Fredheads should be the main act. The idea isn’t outlandish, a live band for a school dance, but Sierra must not have known how truly bad the Fredheads were. They get through half a set, including an off key rendition of ‘Hurt so Good’ where Fred stares at her and FP stares at Fred, before Ricky Mantle jumps on stage and announces that he’s already found a DJ who is on his way. 

By the time the DJ gets there, Fred is pouting and Mary is upset, refusing to talk to her as if it were all her fault. FP has disappeared into the crowd, leaving Hermione alone with the grumpy couple. And the icing on the cake: Alice Smith wins Homecoming Queen and doesn’t even have the decency to look happy about it.

The four of them become an unlikely group though after enough time has passed for everyone to lick their wounds after homecoming. They spend afternoons either at Pop’s or watching movies at the Bijou. They have study sessions in Mary’s basement, entirely at her insistence, and Dark Shadows marathons in Fred’s basement. They never go to FP or Hermione’s houses. The unspoken understanding that the two of them were escaping as long as they could was just another testament to how close they had become. 

So, it’s no surprise that the four of them are together when they get word about Oscar getting into an accident on his way home from college for Thanksgiving. A trucker fell asleep at the wheel and veered across the double yellow line. Oscar died on impact. Hermione thinks it’s a small favor that he didn’t suffer. Mary calls her a bitch and doesn’t speak to her for three days. When she finally does, it’s with puffy red eyes and Hermione can’t help but burst into tears as well. 

Bunny loses thirty pounds and Artie goes entirely gray overnight. Fred doesn’t leave his room for a week and will only talk to FP out of the three of them. By the time Fred finally comes back to school, he’s followed in the way of his mother and his clothes are hanging off of him. Mary stays by his side the entire day, only switching off with FP for the few classes that she doesn’t share with Fred. Hermione fills in the gaps, covering after school when FP or Mary can’t.

None of them are ready for it when Artie has his first heart attack nearly a month later on Christmas Eve. It’s a downward spiral after that and, two days after Valentine’s Day, the Andrews family says goodbye to another member. 

Hermione’s mother insists on going with her to the funeral. Fred doesn’t look up from his hands the entire time and Mrs. Andrews doesn’t shed a tear. Her mother tsks under her breath and shakes her head, muttering a prayer for protection over her own family. 

“Mom,” Hermione hisses under her breath. “That’s rude.”

“Shush,” her mother whispers back, patting the back of Hermione’s hand. “The preacher is speaking.”

Her mother keeps Hermione close while they wait to offer their condolences to Fred and Mrs. Andrews. Hermione remembers when they were doing this only a few months ago for Oscar. It had been Jackie standing by her side then, face puffy and blotchy from crying. Not Marisol Gomez though. She’s been made of stone through the whole funeral. It’s only when they’re in front of Mrs. Andrews that she softens and Hermione sees the mother from her sick days. The mother that would make her favorite soup and sing songs to her until Hermione fell asleep. 

“Bunny,” her mother says softly before pulling Mrs. Andrews into a hug. She sinks into her mother’s arms and inhales deeply. Hermione thinks it might be the only minute that Mrs. Andrews has relaxed all day. “I’m so sorry. Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thank you, Marisol,” Mrs. Andrews says, sniffing loudly. She pulls back with a watery smile before turning to Hermione and cupping her cheek. “Thank you, too, for looking after Freddie.”

“Mrs. Andrews,” Hermione says, blinking at her. She doesn’t know what to say, hadn’t even realized that Mrs. Andrews had noticed the extra amount of time they all spent with Fred after Oscar died. She clears her throat, feels her mother’s probing gaze. “Of course. Fred’s my friend and he needed friends. Still needs them.”

“That he does, sweet girl,” Mrs. Andrews says before sighing and turning to look at the next person in line. Her face tenses. “Rose. Clifford. Thank you for coming.”

Hermione moves to Fred not even bothering to say anything before pulling him into a tight hug. Fred wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her neck. He exhales and sags into her, “Thanks for being here, Mione.”

“Of course,” she says softly, stroking the back of his head. “What do you need, Freddie?”

Fred pulls back and rubs at his face, looking around the room. He looks back down at her and shyly asks, “Find FP?”

“Consider it done,” she says with a nod. She leans up and kisses his cheek before weaving through the crowd. 

She passes Hal, looking worse if that was possible. Ever since Alice went away, Hal has been nothing but miserable. Hermione is shocked that he even made it out of his house. Mary is with her parents and the looks she gives her just says that yet again Mrs. Anderman on another anti-Hermione campaign. Hermione rolls her eyes and goes outside. 

She stops dead in her tracks to see Hiram Lodge and FP Jones chatting while smoking a cigarette. Hermione coughs and pulls herself together, tossing her long braid over her shoulder and marching up to the two of them. Hiram at least puts out his cigarette and looks embarrassed at being caught. FP rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, hollowing out his cheek and reminding Hermione just how pretty he can be. 

“Freddie needs you,” Hermione says without preamble. FP doesn’t hesitate before throwing down his cigarette and marching back into the funeral home. Hermione watches him go, chewing on her bottom lip and wondering if she should follow. 

“Hermione,” Hiram says. She jumps a little and turns back to him with a sheepish smile. “How are you?”

“Better than the Andrews family,” Hermione mutters, shaking her head. She tucks her hair behind her ear and adjusts her glasses. “I didn’t expect you here, Hiram.”

“My parents insisted,” Hiram says, nodding once. “They knew Mr. Andrews and my mother. Well, you know how fragile her health can be. Father didn't think it was a good idea for her to attend.”

“So they sent you?”

“So they sent me,” Hiram agrees with a nod. “How’s . . . Freddie?”

“Devastated,” Hermione says ignoring the way he says Fred’s nickname. She’s too tired, too worried about Fred to care about an petty jealousies. “How would you be? He lost his brother and his father.”

“I can’t imagine,” Hiram says, shaking his head. They stand in the first awkward silence they’ve ever shared. Finally Hiram speaks. “So. You and Fred Andrews?”

Hermione scoffs and rolls her eyes. She wraps her hands around her upper arms and steps closer to him, “Need I remind you that you’re the one who dumped me?”

“Of course not,” Hiram insists. 

“We are at a funeral for fuck’s sake!” Hermione yells. Hiram shushes her again and hand landing heavy on her shoulder, jerking her close. “Hiram!”

“I’m sorry if I pissed you off,” Hiram says, voice low in the way that makes her stand up a little straighter. “I just hadn’t heard about you dating again and it caught me off guard. It was rude.”

“Damn straight it was rude,” she says, voice just a low. She leans up towards him and pokes him in the chest. “And totally uncalled for.”

He smirks, slides his hand to the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter and she knows that he can feel her heart pounding. She flattens her hand against his chest and feels his heartbeat match her own. 

“I miss you, Hermione,” Hiram says softly, eyes scanning over her face. 

“Me?” she replies breathlessly. 

This always happens when she’s with him. It’s like a dream, surreal and breathtaking. But she never thought that he thought about her while he was at school. They didn’t communicate and it was fine. She was fine. 

When Hiram nods, Hermione realizes just how not fine she’s been. 

She can’t help the tears that suddenly pool in her eyes. If it were any other day or any other person, she’d be mortified but Hiram’s face doesn’t change. He just scoops her up in his arms and presses her face to his shoulder. She cries for a few minutes, Hiram petting her hair. He doesn’t say anything and she’s grateful for that. She doesn’t want any false sympathies or promises that things will get better. She just wants to cry and to be held and Hiram gives her just that.

__

 

_ Adolescents tend to seek love where they can find it. _

 

 

They’re little foursome starts to fade in the spring. Hermione should have seen it coming, should have known that they’re happy little circle couldn't last forever. High school was ending and life was changing for the four of them. 

Fred got a job at the quarry for extra spending money which they all knew meant helping his mother keep the house. FP gets in deeper with the Serpents, spending almost all of his free time on the Southside. Mary and Hermione put all of their focus on final exams and prom. They don’t talk about the frequent absences of the boys from their study sessions and milkshake afternoons. 

Hiram starts sending her postcards after Mr. Andrews’ funeral. Short, two or three line missives that tell her nothing about his day-to-day life but instead detail small things that make him think of her. She collects them in a shoebox that she keeps tucked in the back corner of her closet. The sweeter ones, the ones that talk about the future, she reads over and over again until the ink starts to fade. 

Prom looms over their heads all through final exams. Mary insists that she isn’t worried about it, that she doesn’t care about one more school dance, but Hermione can see right through her. She’s worried that Fred won’t ask her, that he won’t want to go to prom after all the loss he’s suffered. 

It’s only a few weeks before prom when Fred and FP sit down at their lunch table finally sit at their table. Fred is sporting an overeager grin, it doesn’t reach his eyes though and Hermione is sure that Mary notices. FP has a frown on his face that is just as stormy as Fred’s smile is bright. Fred watches the two girls for a few minutes, the smile never dropping from his face, until Hermione loses her patience. Hermione looks between the two of them with raised eyebrows until her patience runs out, “What do you guys want?”

“Be our prom dates?” Fred asks while FP huffs and hunches his shoulders in on himself. Hermione gives him a commiserating smile, they’ve all been conned into helping Fred with any number of hairbrained ideas, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. He just sulks and glares at the nutritional pyramid. 

“At this point, you two really should just go together,” Hermione points out before biting into a fry. FP stiffens and Fred’s cheeks turn bright pink. “I mean, you’re together all the time anyways. You’re pretty much dating already.”

“Knock it off, Mione,” Fred says, clearly trying to deflect. 

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Mary says innocently enough. That actually makes Fred laugh out loud, earning him a pleased smile from Mary. FP, on the other hand, looks like he swallowed a lemon. Mary notices and sighs. “I’m just teasing, F.”

“Did I say anything?” he snaps. Mary jerks back, eyes wide. The table falls silent as they all stare at FP.

“What’s your problem, FP?” Mary asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “I haven’t done anything to you. So, why are you being a dick?”

“Nothing,” FP says, holding his hands up. “Noth-ing is wrong with me.”

“You’re sure acting like something is wrong,” Mary says, not backing down. Not that Hermione would ever expect her to. Mary Anderman budged for no man. “I will not be your punching back, FP Jones.” 

Fred puts his hand on FP’s shoulder, fingers squeezing tight. It usually calms him down, usually gets him to take a breath and laugh it off but not today. Today it just sends him reeling from the table, hands shoved into the pockets of his letterman. Fred gets up to go after him but Mary reaches out to grab his wrist, keeping him at the table. Fred opens his mouth to protest but Mary cuts him off, “Hermione is going to go after him and apologize.”

“I am going to what now?” Hermione asks, turning to look at Mary.

“You’re the one who pissed him off,” Mary says.

“He was pissed off when he sat down!” Hermione replies. 

“I really don’t mind going after him, guys,” Fred says, starting to get up from the table again. Mary doesn’t even look away from her lunch when she reaches out to grab him arm again. “Or not.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mary says continuing as if Fred had never said anything at all. “He took it out on me and now you owe me. Now go make it up to me and apologize to FP.”

“Mary,” Hermione whines with a pout. 

“Hermione.”

“Freddie,” Fred chimes in, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He smiles at Mary’s glare and wiggles his eyebrows. Mary’s cheeks turn red and Hermione rolls her eyes at the oncoming flirtation. She clears her throat loudly and Fred slowly drags his eyes to hers. “Don’t worry about FP, Mione. He’ll be okay.”

“Ignore him, Hermione,” Mary insists. “Go talk to him.”

“Who’s going to know FP better than me?” Fred asks, putting a hand on his chest. “Trust me. He just needs to blow off some steam.”

“Hermione Maria Gomez,” Mary says and it’s enough for Hermione to get up from the table. Fred shouts her name but Hermione just holds up her hands in defeat. She’s been Mary’s best friend since the second grade. She knows when to just give in and do what Mary tells her. Besides, Hermione can tell that Fred is itching to bring up prom again and she doesn’t need to sit through that.

It isn’t hard to find FP. He’s sitting under the bleachers with a couple other Serpents, cigarette hanging from his lips. Hermione sighs and crosses her arms as she ducks under the seats. One of the girls, stringy blonde hair and thick black eyeliner, steps up to her with a fierce smile on her face, “You lost, Prom Queen?”

“Does that mean I have your vote?” Hermione asks, tilting her head. She looks the girl up and down, pouting. “Though you do look at bit young to at the senior prom. What are you a sophomore? Move.”

The girl licks her teeth and cracks her neck. Hermione thinks she’s trying to be intimidating but Hermione isn’t falling for it. She rolls her eyes and looks around the blonde at FP, “Wanna call off the chihuahua?”

“Penny leave her alone,” FP says coming up to the blonde and wrapping his arm around her neck. “She’ll claw your eyes out.”

Penny bites at FP’s forearm, smiling around his skin, before sauntering back to the other Serpents. Hermione pretends to gag herself with her finger to the amused laughter of the others. Penny spins around on her heel and starts to march up to Hermione, murder on her face, but FP drags Hermione away by the arm. 

“What do you want, Hermione?” FP asks, stomping out his cigarette. He pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and shoves a piece into his mouth without offering her any. “If it’s about the thing with Mary, don’t worry about it. I’ll say sorry to her later.”

“Good,” Hermione says with a nod but she doesn’t walk away. FP pops his gum and shifts from foot to foot while she stares at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. He shoves one of his hands into his back pocket and cocks out his hip, every inch of him trying to look cool but his eyes are shifty and he’s popping his gum too loudly. Hermione just waits for him to crack. Finally FP groans and rolls his eyes. “I told Fred I didn’t want to go to prom. He doesn’t listen sometimes.”

“Nope,” Hermione says, shaking her head. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not buying it, Jones,” Hermione insists with a shrug. “Try again.”

FP clenches his jaw and glares at her for a long minute before he spits his gum out. He scrapes his hair back and shifts his weight to the other hip, “I signed up with Mason. We’re going to basic together.”

“The army?” she asks, stomach flipping over. He nods once and Hermione frowns. She tucks her hair behind her ear and tries to keep her voice calm. “Why?”

“Whaddya mean why?” FP asks, rolling his eyes. He looks over his shoulder at the Serpents still sitting under the bleachers. “Look at them. All they care about is the next party, the next fight, the next score.”

“And what? You’re different?” Hermione asks and she can’t help the disbelief in her voice. “You still wear that jacket outside of school. You still have the tattoo. Still spend most of your time at the White Wyrm.”

“I didn’t want this shit,” FP hisses as he turns to her, stepping into her space. “You think I chose the snake on my back? You think I had any other options?”

“You’re the goddamn football star!” Hermione hisses back, refusing to back down. “You could’ve gotten a scholarship, could’ve gone to community college first, could’ve done a lot of thing other than joining a fucking gang.”

“Always knew you had a sharp tongue,” FP says with an angry grin. 

“Only way to keep up with you,” she replies, matching his smile. They stare at each other for a few seconds longer before Hermione’s smile begins to drop. “You haven’t told Fred yet, have you?”

He sucks his teeth and looks out over the field. Hermione groans and covers her face with both hands. Once her mouth is muffled, her groan gets louder with each passing moment until she’s practically screaming in frustration. FP pulls her hands away from her mouth and looks at her with wide eyes. Over his shoulder, the Serpents are watching them. Penny’s glare never strays from Hermione herself. 

“Have you finally lost it?” he asks still looking panicked and still holding her hands. “Cause I want to be elsewhere when everyone finds out. I don’t want to be blamed for the head cheerleader having a breakdown.”

Hermione yanks her hands from his grasp and shoves at his chest, “How could you  _ not _ tell Fred? He’s your best goddamn friend!”

“Stop fucking yelling, wouldya?” FP hisses, grabbing her wrists again and dragging her towards the parking lot, further away from the Serpents. “Could you tell him that you decided to skip town? After all the shit he’s been through?”

“He’s going to find out eventually, FP,” Hermione says, tugging her wrists free and crossing her arms. “And then he’ll be more hurt that you didn’t tell him to begin with and it’s going to be worse, FP. Don’t do that to him. Don’t you dare.”

Hermione gives him one more long, withering look before spinning on her heel and marching back to the school. She’s only a foot away when FP calls out, “What color is your prom dress?”

Hermione rolls her eyes and shouts over her shoulder, “Canary yellow!”

On prom night, they meet at Fred’s house and take pictures in the yard. Hermione can tell that FP still hasn’t told Fred about signing up but FP is all smiles and laughter enough so that Fred loses the worried look in his eyes. Hermione decides that it’s enough for the night and that she won’t press it, especially not when Mary looks at her with wide eyes and an equally happy smile as Fred slides the simple white rose corsage onto her wrist.

Hermione takes the daisy boutonniere that she’d bought FP and pins it to his jacket while Mrs. Andrews snaps a picture. She looks up at him through her lashes but he’s watching Fred and Mary with a soft smile on his face. She tugs on the lapel of his jacket, getting him to look down at her with a raised eyebrow. He smirks and adjusts one of the daisy clips holding her hair back, “Got something on your mind, Gomez.”

“Never,” Hermione replies, holding her wrist out for the corsage that she knows FP brought with him. As he slides it on, fingers warm against her wrist and gentler than she would have expected, Hermione sighs a little. “Though I am worried about my chances for Prom Queen.”

“You would be worried about that,” FP mutters, shaking his head. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in close, turning his head to smile at the camera again. “We both know you’ve blackmailed your way into that plastic tiara.”

“Don’t blame my popularity on blackmail, Jones,” Hermione mutters, resting her hand against his chest as Mrs. Andrews takes another picture. “I should be a shoo-in for Prom Queen, especially with the star quarterback on my arm.”

“Knew you were using me.”

“You enjoy it,” Hermione says before patting his cheek. He flinches a little and rolls his eyes before dragging her to the door so that they could leave. They pile into Mary’s station wagon, turning the radio all the way up and rolling down all of the windows despite Hermione’s complaints about her hair. 

Sierra had wised up after homecoming, renting out the ballroom of the Five Seasons and using the money they raised during the winter fundraiser to hire an actual decorator. Hermione is impressed by the sleek, clean decorations that manage to turn the drag room into a space that could easily host a high-end club. Ricky provided the DJ again, as well as stealthily spiking the punch bowl.

Hermione gets tipsy quickly, dancing wildly with Mary and Fred while FP sulks on the edge of the dancefloor. Mary and Fred’s hands are hot in Hermione’s own and there’s sweat dripping down her back. She pulls them in close and wraps her arms around their necks, swaying back and forth to the music. Mary laughs and presses a kiss to her cheek, Fred doing the same. Hermione responds in kind, pressing messy pink kisses to both of their faces. 

When a slow song starts, Hermione makes her way to the punch table in desperate need of water and some cool air. She chugs her water and looks around for FP, hoping that he hasn’t taken the chance to run away, but is met with Alice Smith and Hal Cooper slow dancing. Hermione almost chokes on her water, staring at them with wide eyes. 

“Careful, Hermione, might catch flies if you leave your mouth hanging open like that,” Penelope says with a snide smile as she gets her own cup of water. She sips it delicately enough and eyes Hermione’s dress. “I must say, I never expected it but yellow really is your color. Yellow just washes out my complexion entirely.”

Hermione inhales sharply and looks Penelope up and down. She’s wearing red again which comes as no surprise but she’s ditched her glasses for contacts, hair curled expertly and twisted to the side so that it tumbles over her shoulder. Despite how ravishing she looks, Hermione notices the absence of a corsage let alone a date. Hermione hums a little and looks back at Alice and Hal, foreheads pressed together and matching soft smiles on their faces. 

“Well, I’m not going to bother complimenting you on the red, Pen,” Hermione says with a small smile. “We both know it’s your signature color, after all.”

“Naturally,” Penelope says, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. 

“Shame that you don’t have any flowers to match,” Hermione says with a small pout. She tries her best to keep her tone friendly and sympathetic but Penelope’s nostrils flare in irritation and Hermione knows that she didn’t try hard enough. “Guess all of those Greendale guys that you’re constantly talking about were too busy tonight?”

“At least I didn’t show up with trailer trash on my arm. Going stag is, obviously, the better option,” Penelope says just as conversationally but there’s a sharp bite to the question that has Hermione smirking into her water cup. Penelope eyes the corsage on her wrist. “Did he even pay for that or did he steal it?”

“Speaking of showing up with trailer trash,” Hermione says, ignoring Penelope’s question. She tilts her head towards Alice and Hal, finding it hard to believe that she hasn’t seen them yet. “I didn’t know that Alice was back or that she and Hal were back together. Did you? I mean, you were like best friends with Hal, right?”

Penelope’s mouth pinches up and Hermione smiles for all of two seconds before she realizes that Penelope is crying. Hermione rolls her eyes at herself and grabs Penelope by the wrist, dragging her to the bathroom. Hermione chases out the two girls who are already in there, locking the door behind them. Penelope is still silently crying, mouth still pinched into an unhappy frown. Hermione grabs a handful of toilet paper and holds it in front of Penelope’s face until she grabs it with a roll of her eyes. 

“That’a girl,” Hermione mutters as she checks her own makeup and finger combs her hair. She applies a fresh coat of lipstick and looks at Penelope out of the corner of her eye. “So. What was that about?”

“Don’t act like you care,” Penelope snaps, voice still watery with tears. 

“Penelope,” Hermione says with a patient sigh. “Everyone and their mom knows about your massive crush on Hal. And everyone’s known since the fifth grade about Hal’s massive crush on Alice. So, really, none of this is  _ that _ shocking. I suppose I thought you would be used to it by now.”

“God you are such a bitch,” Penelope says with a short, bitter laugh. “You just wanted to rub salt in the wound, didn’t you?”

“Jesus, Pen, don’t be so dramatic,” Hermione replies, rolling her eyes. She moves Penelope so that they’re both looking in the mirror. “Fix your makeup. Have like three more glasses of spiked punch and forget about Hal fucking Cooper. It’s prom. It’s now or never, girl.”

Penelope stares at her with wide eyes. Hermione is terrified that she’s going to start crying again. It takes a minute before Penelope finally asks, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“You consider  _ this _ nice?”

“For you,” she replies with a shrug. She starts to clean up her makeup, dabbing at her smudged eyeliner with the tip of her finger. 

“It’s prom night,” Hermione says as she goes to the door. “No one should be crying on prom night.”

When Hermione leaves the bathroom she’s bombarded by Mary and Sierra, both of them grabbing a wrist and dragging her towards the stage. Mary looks over Hermione’s shoulder and frowns before commanding all of Hermione’s attention, “Were you and Penny fighting?”

“You know she goes by Penelope now. It’s full name or bust,” Hermione reminds Mary. Mary just rolls her eyes and waits for Hermione to answer. “Actually, I was comforting her.”

“Comforting her?” Mary asks, raising an eyebrow. Hermione shrugs but doesn’t explain any further. Mary doesn’t press the issue just sighs. “You’re telling me later but right now you need to go get crowned.”

“I won?” Hermione asks, grabbing Mary’s arms. Mary nods before her face breaks into a large grin. Hermione squeals a little and pulls Mary into a tight hug. Hermione pulls back with wide eyes. “Who got king?”

“He’s already up there,” Mary says, gesturing over her shoulder at the stage. “Better hurry. I don’t think Sierra is going to wait much longer.”

Hermione doesn’t wait before rushing up onto the stage. Sierra give sher a strained smile before positioning her next to Fred Andrews. Fred takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. She laughs and pinches his cheek, pleased to see that his smile is reaching his eyes for once. 

She looks back over the crowd and sees the bored faces of her peers. At the back though, she sees FP, Alice, and Hal. Hal stands between FP and Alice and they’re too far away for her to actually see their faces but their bodies speak clearly of an argument. Fred hasn’t noticed them and she hopes that he continues not to notice. She just wants him to keep smiling for a little longer. 

The sea of students slowly spread into a circle as Fred and Hermione head to the dance floor for their dance as king and queen. Fred cradles her hand in his and respectfully puts his other hand on the middle of her back. She smirks at him and rests her hand on his shoulder, “Congratulations, Freddie.”

“Congratulations, Mione,” he replies with a slight smirk. He puts her through an easy spin which receives minimal applause, pulling her a little closer. “Can’t believe it's almost over.”

“I can,” Hermione says with a sigh. “Thank God.”

“Aw, come on, Mione,” Fred says. “You’re not going to miss all this?”

“Why would I?” Hermione asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “I want more than the small town life. I’ve always wanted more.”

Fred gives her a sad smile, “Is that why you never dated me? Cause I was small town?”

“Freddie,” Hermione says, throat tightening. The song reaches its crescendo and he spins her out again. “It wasn’t like that. I swear.”

“Right.”

“Mary liked you,” Hermione continues though she can tell he’s not really listening. “She’s always liked you and I knew that if you gave her a chance you’d like her back.”

The song comes to an end and the two of them give a little bow before the crowd surges back around them. Hermione grabs Fred’s arm and drags him out to the hallway, refusing to let this topic lie. 

“Look,” Hermione says, tucking her hair behind her ears. Fred has his hands shoved in pants pockets and he’s looking towards the lobby. Hermione reaches up and makes Fred look at her. “You are a good guy, Fred Andrews, and you deserve the best. There’s no one better than Mary.”

His face goes soft and Hermione relaxes just a little bit. He searches her face for something, probably any hint that she’s lying or holding back, but she knows he won’t find it. And he doesn’t. Just nods and smiles down at his chucks, “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“She is,” Hermione agrees. 

Fred leans down and kisses her cheek, muttering a thank you. She just pats his chest before pushing him back towards the dance. Fred grabs her hand and drags her back inside with him. They find Mary reluctantly dancing with a drunk FP. They join in, Hermione and Fred holding FP up while Mary laughs. She wraps her arms around them and the four of them dance under the flashing lights, laughing and smiling and having the time of their lives. 

 

 

_They were bound for college, husbands, child-rearing, unhappiness only dimly perceived - bound in other words, for life._

 

 

The end of the school year goes by in a flash. Finals. The Senior picnic. Senior prank. Senior skip day. The Senior bonfire. Graduation. All night grad. By the time it's all done, Hermione feels worn thin from all of the smiles and teary goodbyes. She doesn’t know if they’ve all been fake or if she truly will miss these people, miss these places and all of the small town things she’s used to. For the first time since the idea of getting out of Riverdale first formed in her head, Hermione is unsure of her plan.

She doesn’t tell anyone, of course. Not after years of constantly talking about getting out. Not after busting her ass to get the grades, to get the scholarships, to get the internships. So she swallows her doubts and packs her room up in boxes and suitcases. When she’s done, her throat feels tight seeing how everything neatly fits in a pile of six boxes. 

Her father loads the boxes into his truck to take to the post office after he drops Hermione off at the bus station. Her mother had said her goodbyes at the house - a tight hug and a whispered prayer in Hermione’s ear. Jackie had made some backhanded comment about not forgetting where you come from but Hermione can see that part of her means it. 

Ultimately, she sheds less tears saying goodbye to her family than she did saying goodbye to high school. Hermione isn’t sure if that makes one reaction truer than the other and she doesn’t spend any of the bus ride to New York. 

What she does wonder is who she’ll be once she gets there. Hiram has already agreed to meet her at the bus station, agreed to help her navigate the city until she gets her bearings. She wonders if they’ll be the same as they were in high school, if the years apart will change who they are together. She wonders if the new Hermione that she’s determined to carve out for herself will even want Hiram Lodge anymore. He might not want her anymore. 

By the time she’s getting off the bus, Hermione is an anxiety-ridden mess. It’s a feeling that’s completely foreign to her. She’s never had a moment of such intense doubt, never been so unsure of herself. Hermione Gomez has always known what she wants and gets it every time. She knows that New York isn’t going to be any different but there’s that nagging seed of doubt that she can’t quiet. 

The crowd at the bus station is bustling, a throbbing mass of bodies that Hermione has to shove to get through. By the time she’s gotten her bag and made her way to the pick up area, her patience is thin and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Hiram is waiting for her, leaning against a nondescript black town car with his arms crossed. As soon as he sees her, his entire face lights up and something inside of Hermione unclenches. She lets out a low breath and drags her bag over to him. 

“Welcome to the big city,” he says, pulling her into a hug. She inhales the smell of him and feels herself settle. “How was your bus ride?”

“Long,” she mutters into his shoulder. She pulls away far enough to look him in the eye and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Naturally,” he replies softly. He kisses her cheek back and laces their fingers together. “Ready to start your new life?”

All of the worries she felt on the bus seemed to have disappeared in the few seconds she spent in Hiram’s arms. He looks at her like she’s still everything he could ever want, like she could take over this entire city if she wanted. She feels like Hermione Gomez again and it’s a good feeling. A feeling that she wants to savor in. Hiram cups her cheek and raises an eyebrow for her answer. She smiles at him and squeezes his hand tight, “Of course, Hiram. Of course.”


End file.
